Kat's Story
by JokerGirl509
Summary: AU. What if Uroboros was not so poisonous to everything...and what if Wesker had won? how would our world look and function? And what would this new world do with the uninfected humans? contains OC. rated T for safety.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note:** I have been thinking about an AU concerning what might have happened had Wesker been successful at unleashing Uroboros; and a multitude of other 'what ifs' in the RE series. Trying to piece it all together took quite a bit of time, but I hope it worked out. The first chapter is very long, but I wanted to set the tone as best I could. It does contain a couple OCs, one as the main character; but don't worry, the story will have plenty of Wesker and other villains! May be eventual crossover with Left 4 Dead still… debating about that…( growls in frustration)

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Resident Evil or its affiliated characters. I do own my OCs though.

Kat's Story

The rainfall was harsh and cold as it relentlessly pounded the lone figure, which sat huddled in the middle of the vast sprawling field. Wind began to howl and swirl around the figure, bringing more chill. But the figure did not care. The ground was soaked and muddy, practically flooding around the person. A distant flash of lightning lit the dismal area, and revealed the figure to be a girl, in her preteens, long black hair wet and disheveled as it hung about her face; masking half her features. Her jeans and long sleeved copper colored shirt were equally soaked. Her tennis shoes had partially vanished beneath the mud and grass. Eyes, the color of amber stared out into the early evening, at the rows of trees that were silhouetted against the deep gray of the sky. The girl had not moved in 3 hrs. Almost numb with cold, she had stopped shivering a while ago. It had been 3 years since an unknown and terrifying virus had been unleashed worldwide. It had turned 70% of the population into frightening super humans. The rest had been either immune or the virus had not reached them.

Out of Africa and Europe, more monstrosities had emerged; thousands of reports of raging, blood crazed people who had decreased pain response and little fear. These individuals were separate from the virus-enhanced humans in that a horrific parasite was exposed if they sustained enough damage. Other creatures out of the realm of nightmares appeared all over as well. Those that escaped, or were immune had attempted to flee the chaos, or fight back. Both options had failed miserably. The remaining 30 percent of the un affected population were now very second class, members of families forced to live apart because they were human and in the new society which emerged a mere 3 months after the outbreak, humans were not accepted. They were shunned, attacked, killed, and enslaved. That's if they were lucky. Experimentation, or ending up as cattle were the alternatives. The new society claimed humans had moved against them first, had tried to destroy them and the new phase of evolution.

Thus justifying their treatment of them. One man was responsible for the initial release of the virus, of this new society. One man was the perpetrator of the chaos and death of hundreds of thousands. One man was looked up to as God-like, as the leader of this new society. This man was Albert Wesker. Four years ago in Africa, two agents of bsaa had attempted to stop the spread of the virus. They had been defeated, killed at the hands of one of Wesker's many subordinates, a researcher and weapons dealer named Ricardo Irving. Chris Redfield had been one of the agents. A long time severe thorn in Wesker's side, Redfield had sabotaged numerous projects and plans painstakingly made by the Tyrant. The other agent was Sheva Alomar, partner to Chris and equally a nuisance.

Their efforts failed. But Albert Wesker knew better than to get complacent. He had doubled security efforts in all cities, lest some disenchanted humans try to take back control. Not that many would attempt such a mission; most were too terrified to venture very close to the new society and its strongholds, considering the grisly fates which awaited them. But despite that humans had many weaknesses, it would only take a single truly determined individual to cause a lot of damage. Only one to begin dismantling what Wesker and this New World had built. Chris Redfield had been a prime example: The man had destroyed so much of Weskers work; the situation had been nearly comical. He had expected Chris to always track his every move, and had half expected the man to nearly dismantle Uroboros. But some how, Chris had slipped up, hesitated for a second too long. And had paid for it with his life. His annoying little partner, Sheva had continued fighting, but had been taken down mere minutes after Chris. Pathetic really. He had expected so much more….(Oh well) Thought the Tyrant as he regarded the storm outside watching the lightning dance across the sky. Through the second story window he could see the vast expanse of a field and beyond that a forest. His razor sharp vision picked out a lone figure, which sat in the middle of the soaking mess that was across the mansion grounds. It was a female, and he could tell even from this distance, that she was human.

While he did not catch her scent or see her eyes, he sensed she was not among the Evolved. Most others, who had been compatible with Uroboros, had this ability to detect humans, even from a distance of a couple hundred yards. What he noticed about her was odd. She only wore long sleeves and jeans. No raincoat or parka to shield against the cold. And she was crouched in the mud and water of a nearly flooded field. She was'nt moving either; as far as he could tell…she was simply staring ahead at the tree line; suffering from either sickness or mental issues. He narrowed his eyes behind his sunglasses. Even though it was dim in the room and he didn't need to shield his eyes from the light, he wore them anyway.

What this human girl was doing here, near the estate and how security had failed to notice her in the first place angered Wesker. (Those incompetent fools) he seethed. But he soon calmed himself. He had discovered over the years that doing a job yourself benefited the outcome more than relying on others. When the weather cleared, he would see what troubled this human and put an end to her misery. Outside, the wind picked up and the rain fell harder than ever. It sprayed the girl's face and tangled her already messy hair. A particularly loud burst of thunder made her face snap up, and she breathed faster. Realization began to slowly creep in like a burglar trying to steal past sleeping people in a creaky, moaning hallway. How had she gotten here? She only dimly recalled wandering rather aimlessly along a hiking trail before becoming interested in this large field ringed by beautiful trees. Why the sudden interest in a seemingly empty, most likely dangerous place, and why she had sat like a stone sculpture for God knows how long in the middle of it during a storm, frightened her. What had come over her? It had been a really, really strong surge of sadness, hopelessness, and despair.

She was used to those feelings; they had been a daily thing for four years. But she had never allowed them to flare up like a fire storm and surge out of control; actually directing her on odd impulses and refusing to let her mind get back in control of her body. And this is where she had ended up. Miles and miles from her human encampment, nearly dead with cold, soaked to her very soul; half covered with mud, leaves and twigs. Shakily, she rose, almost falling over from the weak numbness that plagued her legs. She crossed her arms in a vain attempt to keep herself warm. Then she truly felt the chill as it gnawed into her bones. Home was too far away to even think of staggering back there in this weather and in this condition.

She glanced down at the ruin of her shoes, which, up until five hours ago had been perfectly fine. She was probably destined to get sick with the flu for weeks. Or get a lung infection. 'Maybe I'll luck out and get both' she muttered to no one in particular, a slight smile playing on her lips. It was the first time she had smiled in months and it felt good. Although smiling about getting possibly deathly ill was quite strange, it never hurt to humor oneself. Considering what the whole world had been through in just a few years, her predicament paled in comparison. The rain was letting up and the wind was swirling slowly about the trees, the now dark sky starless and stark. Now that the rain had stopped, she felt the cold even more if that was possible. Kat took one creaky step forward, trying to avoid the large puddle which had grown from the torrent of rain; although trying to avoid getting wet when you had basically 'swam' in a waterfall made little sense. But then few things did anymore.

After what amounted to 20 min of navigating miniature lakes and mud patches, Kat was finally exiting her strange, inexplicable 'vacation' spot. Suddenly, she stopped. Her heart began to beat faster, and it was not simply from exercise. An odd feeling began in her mid to upper back, ending on the back of her neck where hairs prickled. She was being watched. Her stomach dropped out of her in a rush of quiet panic as she fumbled for weapons. Nothing, save a razor sharp combat knife she held in a shaking hand. She preferred a large machete; more reach, less of a chance of coming into contact with whatever was watching her. After receiving several scars from Licker claws on her stomach and back, and a nasty bite on her shoulder from a Regenerator, the farther she was from an attacker, the better. Close combat was not her strong point. It was then that she realized she was near an impressive mansion…and several other buildings…( big moment of duuuuuh there..) she chided herself. How she had failed to notice it was any ones guess. God, whatever was happening to her mental state was perhaps more serious than she thought. A soft rustle of wet leaves indicating footsteps snapped her from thinking further.

A blur of motion to her right was all she saw before being knocked down with a backhanded strike. The attack hurt her already sore back and she whimpered with pain; dropping her knife. Another set of footsteps approached. This one was slower, almost casual. Kat squinted, opening her eyes a bit and was met with the barrel of an assault rifle and a blinding green laser light. The gun holder was her attacker, a younger man with dark eyes and roughened black hair. He curled his lip in disgust. "You are trespassing on private property, human. That is a crime punishable by death." Fear struck Kat like a baseball bat to the face. Her heart pounded frantically as the reality of her situation settled. She would have preferred fifty Lickers and Regenerators to the Goddamn evolved, new society/ new world freaks. Nearly mindless monsters were nicer to their prey than these super humans. The rifle clicked into place, inches from her forehead. She was so freaking stupid…If she had stayed in her encampment…if she had stayed on the actual road and not gone off along some private hiking trial…so many ifs. No, she was just another dumb human deemed by the universe to be too dimwitted to survive. She deserved this. She closed her eyes and waited for the man to pull the trigger. It never happened.

She then heard a cold voice with a British accent say, "That's enough. She is not to have her brains decorating the ground. Besides, we could use some more test subjects." The rifle wielder agreed with a hasty "yes sir. Right away sir." Kat's heart leaped into her throat. Test subjects. Thrown into some holding cell where they messed with your DNA until you either mutated into some monstrosity, or slowly died from the tampering. She would rather take a bullet to the brain and die quickly. She chanced at opening her eyes, a growing sickness in her stomach. The rifle man barked at her to "stand her ass up." She obliged; wincing from pain and aching all over. When she faced the other person with the chilling voice, she froze, a feeling of terror, more than anything she had felt before, slammed into her. The tall blonde man with sunglasses perched on his nose despite the near pitch-blackness of the night, radiated a predatory energy, more so then his gun toting assistant. His face held little emotion, save for a small smirk at the look of pure primal terror he was receiving from the human before him. She had small wounds on her back and shoulder from being smacked into the ground and they bled sluggishly.

The sweet scent of blood permeating the air as it trickled from the cuts, was quite pleasant and it helped off set the not so appealing smell of a wet, sweaty human half covered in mud and foliage. Wesker regarded the young girl with cold curiosity before motioning his subordinate to bring her along to the mansion. The warm, inviting orange glow cast by the Estates lights seemed to mock Kat's shivering as she was lead to her certain doom. They threaded through an impressive garden, a maze of ornate sculptures, and a flawless stone staircase. High glass windows and neatly carved back doors met the girl's wary gaze. The doors swung open and a rush of soothing warm air brushed her cold face. A servant woman discreetly hurried off to get a towel, lest the sopping wet human drip a pathway of filthy disaster along the shining wooden floor. Kat's eyes grew wide with awe at the high ceiling, the huge fireplace, ornate furniture, and massive staircase that snaked away out of site, leading to dozens of other rooms on the second floor. Tall, stern portraits of prominent family members stared down at her with a disgusted air. (Even the artwork hates me) she thought with a mental chuckle. Despite the horrors that awaited her, she felt oddly calm, almost detached. The bustling footsteps of the servant woman met her tired ears. She hated the way the tall imposing blond man never really took his shaded eyes from her. She could feel them drill into the side of her face. Giving an involuntary shudder, she held her arms tighter against herself and stared at the floor, wondering where the hell her knife was. She felt naked without it. When she saw the cold man hold it in his hand casually, examining it before looking at her with a smug smile as if to say: "Just what exactly were you going to do with such a simple, weak weapon?" she turned away. "Chairman Wesker sir." The servant said. "Permission to take this subject to lower level holding cell, sir." The shaded eyed man nodded before gesturing at his subordinate to leave the room. The rifle man left after saluting his superior. A towel was thrown over Kat and wrapped about her shoulders. Not out of kindness, but out of the fear that her tangled mess of hair would never stop dripping on the near perfect floor. Roughly, she was led away, the sensation of Wesker's burning gaze never leaving her until the door to the back room was shut lightly behind them. The hallway was wide, flanked by the same high windows and flowing curtains, and flecked by the occasional decorative side table with large vases of flowers. Beautiful paintings spread out along the right hand side of the hallway. The servant woman was silent, but Kat could tell from the corner of her eye that she was stealing glances at her when she could. The grip on her elbow was tight and uncomfortable, but fighting or running for it was plain suicide: the servant woman's lean body and dark gaze told Kat she would lose that battle. Another set of double doors awaited them. The servant pushed her way through silently, towing Kat along behind her like a stubborn dog on a leash. This hallway was equally long and wide, but instead of tables, suits of armor from many European countries stood as solemn guards to the echoing hallway. Grinding pain in her knees made Kat wince and she knew why the servant was so fit. Nothing but endless hallways, and stairs all day, every day. Once they passed through another set of doors, the woman finally spoke. "You're the first human we've seen in six months; the first we have had here in almost nine." The servant sounded solemn, almost sad as her voice changed to a whisper. "I hope your group escapes sir Wesker's notice, if they are still near here. Why did they abandon you?" Karen did'nt know how to respond. One of the 'evolved', one of the superhumans, was actually talking to her like she was an intelligent, capable being. "They did'nt abandon me. They would never do that." The woman stared ahead for a while longer, before asking again. " Do you have a family out there? Are your parents with your group? Do you have siblings? I'm sorry for all the questions I'm just curious. You were out in the middle of nowhere and your are only a child." Kat's face became rigid, cold and stone like. She cast her fiery gaze away from her captor, looking at the passing collections of taxidermed wild life that flanked them along the hall way. "My parents are not with any human group. They were turned when that virus or whatever the hell you call it came into Seattle. They disowned me and my younger sister. Disowned us because we were immune. My older brother was turned along with them. He tried to kill me, came after both my younger sister and me. Our own parents and brother, our own family, tried to murder us. So we ran, and found neighbors that were immune and kind enough to take us in. They packed up and we fled alongside them, with so many others. Unfortunately, this 'New World' was not keen on letting us get away. We were stopped by some military convoy about ten miles into our car trip. My neighbors were shot dead, and my little sister was taken. I never saw her again. Somehow I escaped and fled into a warehouse. I met a few of what you people call Lickers and Regenerators. I would have died, but this group of immunes saved me. I have been with that group ever since. And no, I am not telling you anything. So if you are going to kill me, get it over with. Because I will never tell you where my friends are." It surprised Kat that such an inside wrenching experience was given as a simple speech. The girl's voice was monotone; yet beneath the surface a dangerous level of anger and sadness prowled about, like an impatient tiger confined to a cage much too small for its liking. The servant woman sensed it, and made a mental note to keep that beast from escaping its cage. For if the tigress got out, Kat would most likely hurt or kill herself in attempts to fight back or escape. She clearly was trying to keep the animal locked away, but her tries were becoming useless. Most, in fact all the humans who had the misfortune of being at the mansion, made every effort possible to scream whatever came to mind, and strike back without thought. This one did not. And it shocked the servant woman, who was used to violent treatment by captive humans, despite her efforts at civility and fairness. They normally did not take kindly to kindness from 'the enemy'. In fact, they raged against it. But this one at least accepted the kindness; however grudgingly. They had come to a metal set of doors, with a card verification scanner on the wall next to it. The servant swiped her card through, and the doors opened with a hiss. A lonely hallway, metal and concrete, flanked by holding cell doors loomed ahead. But the servant pulled Kat towards another door on the left, and after a swipe of her card, it opened to reveal a shower room of sorts, complete with a small set of lockers and benches. The walls were tiled, as was the floor. No windows were here, but strong lighting made the room at least slightly more inviting than the holding cell block. The servant woman spoke. "First you need a shower, then we can get you some dry clothes to wear. Surprised you have not gotten sick from exposure." Kat stood in the middle of the room, aware that the door had been shut tight. She decided she may as well be 'obedient' and stay put, doing what she was told. The servant was extracting towels, and fresh, clean dry clothing from a locker. The uniform was blue and white, with a symbol stitched to the back. "I'll let you shower and dress. The room is monitored by closed circuit cameras, so please do not try anything stupid. Sir Wesker does not take kindly to trouble." The servant's voice was solemn, and sad. She left, neatly shutting the door behind her. Kat snorted mirthlessly. ( Cameras…closed circuit…hhmm..things just keep getting more and more interesting!) Smirking, she removed her towel, and soaking clothes. Her skin was clammy, pale, and had numerous bits of nature stuck to it. Her hair was a disaster, twisted up in two places with twigs. At least a comb had been laid out for her. She did'nt have a super model body size either. She wore a size ten, but did not really care what people thought, especially this 'new world'. Hell, she would probably lose quite a bit of weight over the course of her stay…(they probably starve their test subjects) she thought as she showered, taking careful pains to undo the knots and stubborn twigs from her hair. The hot water felt amazing, and soap had thankfully been provided. When she was finished, Kat turned off the shower with some regret and toweled off; grateful to be dry at last. The neat pile of clothes had a pair of shoes on top as well. She slipped into the dry wear with a sigh, feeling oddly content. She laughed out loud from the feeling, the sound echoing about the steamy empty room. At least she did not feel the tidal wave of sorrow from earlier that day. She went to the door, and was let out. She nodded at the servant, "Thank you." She had no idea why she thanked this random stranger, who was part of the mansions employee list…who answered to Wesker…who was one of 'them'. But her thanks was genuine. Kat wanted to encourage the servant's kindness. A single friendly face amongst a million vicious ones could make the difference between staying sane and going crazy. Quietly, she was led to her cell. It was basically a prison cell, with a cot, sink, and a thankfully private bathroom. Although an opaque telephone booth with a toilet did not really speak of interior decorating skills, it was better than nothing. "Someone will be by later to bring food." The servant smiled; it was a simple smile, but it was the only way she could chip away at the tension. Then she quietly shut the door and walked away, footsteps echoing amongst the quiet. Kat heard her go through the entrance door and the tell tale hiss of it snapping shut like mighty jaws, sealing her in here further. She collapsed on the cot in a heap and was asleep at once; exhaustion finally sticking her with its relentless claws. It was the only bit of peace that would come for some time, and while escaping into one's subconscious was sub-par at best to actually being free, it was the only route to a sliver of comfort.

**Author's note:** So how was it? Good? Bad? In between? Once again I apologize for the first chapter length. The others will be more manageable. And there will be more villain awesomeness soon!


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note: **I would like to thank all who reviewed for the excellent criticism! The first chapter was an absolute disaster paragraph and POV wise…my college English teacher would have my brains for breakfast if they knew! (Hopefully they don't know yet) But I have made improvements! No brains on the menu, for now at least. Anyway, on with the story!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Resident Evil

The creeping chill in the holding cell room made Kat shiver uncontrollably as she tightened her grip on the pitiful excuse for a blanket. The scratchy, scrawny thing did little to keep the cold at bay; and the thin mesh on the cot itself let most of her body heat escape. She had been in and out of sleep for hours, unable to get past the cold. The industrial hum of some ventilation system confirmed her suspicions: the ac was ALWAYS on. Grumbling, Kat threw off the blanket and stood, rubbing her eyes.

She felt no fear. Just…detachment. It unnerved her how numb she had become; she was completely alone in this hellish mess, and yet felt almost nothing. Running a tired hand through her hair Kat looked around the confines of her room. Concrete floors, silver walls, tiled ceiling; and a heavy door that bolted from the outside with a small rectangular viewing window.

Slight movement in the upper corner near the ceiling, caught her attention: a security camera stared back at her, red light blinking. "Oh, my God, does it ever end?" she said to no one in particular. Suddenly, strong internal urges brought her to the telephone booth of a bathroom in a sprint. Seeing the camera out of the corner of her eye, she quickly slammed the little door. Some things should remain private. When Kat finished addressing the urgent matters, she went to the sink to wash up. Her hair was a mess, and a pale, wary face stared back.

Splashing icy water on her eyes, she did her best to wake up. Now her eyes were awake, but oddly, her face wasn't…still dulled from lack of sleep. "Ugh…give me a break here, people." Kat sighed, running a comb through her frizzed mane. Why she was trying to improve her looks when it wouldn't matter AT ALL, baffled her. "Just another mystery yet to be solved." Stretching, she heard her sore back crack and creak like the old floorboards in her parents attic. "I'm waaaay to young to be having these problems." She growled, trying to work more kinks out.

Then a sharp knock came at the door. Gasping, Kat whirled about and stared. The kind face of the servant from the other night looked on. The door opened silently and the woman entered calmly. She bore a tray of food, which she set down on the little table next to the cot. Pancakes, bacon, orange juice, and a large steaming mug of coffee made Kat's mouth water.

The servant woman nodded at Kat. "I managed to whip this up before my shift started. Now, don't worry, its not poisoned." The woman chuckled, "I do suggest you eat though. I have limited spare time, and may not be able to cook you anything until much later today. And considering the Powers That Be have yet to make up their minds about what to do with you, I implore you to enjoy the current peace you have." The servant's tone was again, solemn…but truthful.

She turned to leave. "Wait! What's your name?" Kat had practically yelled at her. The woman turned to look back, but the look was friendly. "My name's Jenison." Kat smiled a bit. ( Jenison) she thought. She would have to remember that name; as it was the only kindness around this prison she had. "Thank you." Kat quickly said before Jenison left. The woman paused again, but did not turn or answer; she simply exited as quietly as she had entered.

Kat regarded the door briefly, before diving into her breakfast and hungrily devouring the food. How long had it been since she last ate? Days? Well, she decided to make the best of her time and just stopped thinking and focused on breakfast. Eyeing the security camera, she raised her eyebrows. Grinning widely, she slowly and dramatically, ate each mouthful with a flourish of theatrics. ( Might as well make the best of it while I'm here!) She thought with a surprisingly light heart. It was good to feel emotion again.

Out in the hallway, the servant woman Jenison watched the captive human and her theatrical antics with worry. Her superiors were notorious about punishing any sort of indiscretion; no matter how innocent. Jenison's eyes flared crimson from emotion. She was tired of sitting on the sidelines and doing nothing…tired of feeling helpless. Tired of letting the so-called 'Evolved' torture and gawk at their 'specimens' as they liked to call them. Specimens who were living, breathing people…people like the child in the cell before her. Sighing, Jenison turned away and left the lonely hallway to attend to other duties.

Inside the cell, Kat was busying herself with drinking coffee; savoring every sip. Little sugar and cream packets had been provided and all were used up. Bored with antagonizing the mystery people behind the camera, she was deep in thought. The group of immune people she had been traveling with for years, led by a man named Jose, were thirty people strong. They lived by constant travel and camping; it was never a safe idea to remain in one place longer than several days.

It was not simply the threat of the nightmarish creatures that stalked the forest; it was the constant worry about being ambushed by patrolling military convoys. The New World freaks rarely tired of tracking immunes. Part of the reason why Jose, Kat's group leader, had a strict code of sticking with the forest and mountains; absolutely no open spaces bigger than a few car lengths across. And that plan had worked beautifully…(Until I had to go and mess it up...wandered off…just had to be alone…didn't take a gun. And now this.) Thought Kat, tightening her grip on the still warm coffee mug.

"What the hell was wrong with me?" She asked the empty, cold room. It was barely more than a whisper, but it seemed more of a shout to her. Cracking her neck, she stood. There was something under the food tray that she hadn't noticed. It was another blanket; thicker and warmer than the horrible burlap sack thing on the cot. She shivered again, turning to glare up at the camera. "What is it with you people and the COLD?" Kat shouted, not caring what the consequences would be. None came. The camera stared back silently, red light blinking.

Slurping down the rest of her coffee, she marched back to her cot, moved the food tray aside, and tossed the other blanket onto the bed. She was exhausted again, and chose to take the opportunity to sleep. The second cover did wonders as the numbness subsided from her hands and feet. Unfortunately, sleep never came. Kat grumpily lay there for hours, forcing her eyes shut, and trying to calm her racing mind.

Far off on the other side of the mansion, Albert Wesker was looking for a particular servant. (What is her name?…Ah. Jenison…that's it.) He thought as he prowled about the hallways. Then up ahead, a familiar severe face and dark eyes came into view. Jenison was talking to another worker, rather hurriedly. Swirling around, she came down the hallway at a jog and stopped dead upon seeing her superior.

Quickly composing herself, she nodded politely. "Sir Wesker. I was just about to give a daily check-up on experiments eleven and eighteen. I have already seen to the new subject sir." Jenison was as calm and serious as ever. But something was troubling her; it flickered underneath, sometimes showing as fear or anxiety in her normally neutral brown eyes.

Wesker smiled a bit as he sensed her worry. "Something is troubling you, dearheart. Due tell me. You have been a loyal subordinate for years, and I do not wish you to be tied up in such un-necessary fear." But it was not out of kindness that he asked such a question. He could tell that whatever was troubling Jenison had, at least in part, something to do with their new 'guest'. Jenison rarely showed much emotion, except a constant air of respect towards him…which didn't really count as an emotion in the first place.

Wesker narrowed his eyes behind his shades, and folded his arms waiting for an answer. The servant hesitated a few moments too long; and he took a step closer, looking down at her with a sneer. Jenison blinked and stepped back, fear growing in her face. "Very well. Since you choose not to answer me, how about if we take a walk down to the lab? Maybe then you will inform me of your troubles." Wesker's voice would have appeared calm to a stranger's eyes…but to anyone who had the misfortune of working for him long enough, would instantly recognize the steely, vicious danger that tone of voice carried.

Feeling faint, Jenison stood a little straighter and looked him in the eye. Strangely, direct eye contact had a calming effect on the building inferno, and Wesker's fiery eyes cooled. Jenison knew that if she had looked away for more than a second, she would have likely found herself tossed into the far wall. Albert Wesker despised cowards; and expected that his subordinates not wither before him into a pathetic heap. But all Jenison could manage to say, was a hasty "Yes sir." Mentally shouting at herself, she accompanied the tyrant to the lab.

Wesker felt his annoyance disappear with each step along the hallway. An elevator door glided open, and they entered silently. He glanced at Jenison, who stood firm despite her obvious fear and worry, her gaze remaining dead ahead. Chuckling, Wesker placed an arm around her shoulder as the doors slid open, revealing the gleaming white corridors of the lab. Glass windows at waist height, half a meter thick, lined the hallway every few meters. They were viewing windows, showcasing medium sized holding cells and their inhabitants.

After Jenison's superior led her past several cells, he stopped her at one in particular. She shivered involuntarily from his chilling touch as he removed his arm from her shoulders. Wesker spoke softly to her, almost right in her ear. "See the subject before you, Jenison? This specimen brought us incalculable benefits in terms of its DNA and abilities. We are now able to produce a specialized toxin that targets only the immune humans in any given area. Taking care of vermin has never been more efficient." He walked away from her and peered into the cell's far corner, where a dark form huddled; cringing away from them.

Smiling at the frightened figure, Wesker turned to gaze at Jenison. He knew that forcing her to see experiment 13, was putting pressure on her. Jenison only dealt with a handful of experiments in her daily rounds; and she rarely saw this one. In fact, hardly any of the mansion's staff cared for the beast. Only two scientists were allowed to monitor, feed, and care for the creature. But forcing Jenison into an unpleasant situation, was bringing all kinds of interesting emotions to her surface; despite her efforts at keeping them hidden.

"Do you not see why we must continue along this path of discovery? It is for the benefit of our kind, our people, our new world. The humans are weak. They had their own little universe, and chose to fritter it away with useless war, charity, and cowardice. Now they have other purposes; purposes which fit their weasel nature." Wesker stood over Jenison again as he spoke, his words sliding into her ears uncomfortably. "So I do sincerely hope that you do not sympathize too much with…them. It would be a shame…quite a shame." With another chuckle, Wesker walked off and left Jenison alone in the brightly lit corridor.

The elevator door shut neatly behind her superior's dark form. Jenison shivered again, and looked into the cell once more, as she had kept her gaze averted as much as possible while being lectured. Without the imposing presence of Wesker, the creature in the cell had moved closer to see who was gawking at it through the glass more clearly.

Jenison would never get used to seeing such a beast, as the lonely being had been merely a child when she had been brought to this place well over a decade ago. The hunched form crawled forward and stood. Placing clawed hands on the glass. Multiple faces stared blankly at the servant. Several pale tentacles slid down the smooth glass surface; but not in a threatening manner. Blazing yellow eyes that peered through a horrid decaying flesh mask, regarded Jenison with mild curiosity before the creature lowered herself back down.

Crouching on the tiled floor, the being toyed with a piece of torn fabric, and began to hum an off kilter tune; which she did not seem aware of. She tapped her claws and played with the cloth some more. One of the decayed facemasks slipped off and landed with a sickening splat on the floor. The misshapen beast simply reached down and put it back on, always humming that little tune.

Tears filled Jenison's eyes, and she fled from the cell window, sprinting back down the corridor; rage and sorrow in her heart. Choking back a sob, she felt her eyes flame crimson from emotion. With difficulty, she calmed herself, and slipped on her own mask of indifference when she reached the elevator. Prying eyes were always watching, and it paid to keep ones self under control.

When the silvery doors slid open and Jenison boarded the elevator car, she mouthed a few whispering words no one would ever hear, except herself. "I'm sorry Lisa….so sorry." While she was far too late to help that lost child, she would be damned if another was molded into the new world's ideal image of humanity.

**Author's note:** Aaaagh! The chapter monster strikes again! Nothing is safe from its clutches! Anyway, I finally figured out how to upload a new chapter….turned out to be quite simple…ugh. I need to find my head.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's note:** Here's chapter three! Sorry if things have been a little slow in the story. But now that I have it set up properly, I hope things flow a little easier. And I'm still working on my paragraph layout…(mentally kicking myself) And again, thank you all for reviews and criticism!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Resident Evil.

Fierce winds slammed the high windows of the mansion, as nearly horizontal rain attacked every square inch of the outside. Albert Wesker grumbled in annoyance as thunder shook the very walls of his office, loosening a picture from above the mantel at the fireplace. It teetered, and slipped off.

A split second later, he saved the painting from landing on the two slumbering Dobermans before the roaring fire.

Growls came from the sleepy guardians, their red eyes flashing. "Oh, quiet." Wesker hissed at them. They fell silent, but twitched their ears at the slightest sound they felt was out of place. Glaring at the raging storm, they settled back down; disliking the foul weather as much as their master.

While late October was expected to bring such a miserable climate, Wesker hoped it would finally end. This storm was worse than the previous blast that befell the mountainside mansion just a few days ago.

Placing the painting into its proper space again, he checked his itinerary; a sleek, flat device half the size of a laptop, which carried endless information pertaining to the mansion, and the outside world. His thoughts drifted to their lovely new guest. He was quite curious about the human. No more than twelve or so…and yet she clearly new a lot about survival.

Without a doubt, she was a member of those groups of traveling immunes. A mere child…who was well aware of the art of knife defense, carrying a vicious looking blade and then getting into a fighting stance when first confronted.

Wesker drummed his gloved hands on the polished surface of the desk, frowning at that same shining knife, which lay neatly next to a stack of documents.

But why was she separated from her group in the first place? It made little sense. Humans normally looked after people her age with great care; fawning over offspring with distasteful sugar sweetness. Well, he could muse on such trivial things later. The gleaming blade of the combat knife was beckoning an idea.

( If this human child really is adept at survival and knife defense, I think its time to test her so-called abilities before any real experimentation begins…have a little fun) He thought, frown disappearing.

Smiling now, Wesker plucked the weapon from its resting place, and walked to the double mahogany doors, and clicked his tongue at the Dobermans, who eagerly rose. Fire was in their eyes, as they seemed to sense the upcoming events.

Uroboros infected dogs had a much higher degree of intelligence, and intuitive awareness than regular animals. They were also roughly half a yard taller than their lesser counterparts, making them intimidating foes.

Opening the doors, Wesker let them into the hallway where they stood obediently. Locking his office, he strolled down the main way, flanked by the Dobermans and their ever watchful eyes.

Fingering the blade, he admired its craftsmanship. Serrated at one part, slick in another, and heavy; clearly meant to deal significant damage to an opponent.

Providing said opponent was merely an experiment, and not among the evolved, like himself. Such a weak weapon would only irritate him; a little scratch. Nothing more. Pausing before the elevator, he activated his phone, contacting the main laboratory. "Have experiments eleven, and thirteen moved to the combat chambers immediately." Wesker ordered one of the scientists.

When they failed to respond a second later, he sighed. "NOW, Frederick…not next week." A low threatening tone creeping into his voice.

A very hassled "Yes sir Wesker!" was stammered to him before he hung up, growling at the idiocy he was forced to put up with. The elevator doors beckoned him, and he stepped in, along with his hounds.

They were not distracted by fear; as they knew no such thing existed. Chuckling, Wesker grinned at the dogs. "If only all subordinates were as skilled and unburdened as you." The Dobermans looked up in unison, and seemed to rumble in agreement.

Reaching the desired floor, he exited and stepped into another hallway and a set of doors; which were unmarked and made of thick, heavy metal. He had no need of a card key, as optical scanning verified his identity. A dim, seemingly abandoned walkway met his gaze. He was in another holding cell block. And this one held but one occupant.

Silence permeated the atmosphere, but his razor sharp hearing picked out the minute sound of breathing; slow and steady. Strolling to the door nearest him, he peered in through the viewing glass.

Sheets had been piled up into a small mountain on the cot, and a long clump of black hair stuck out, lying like a sleeping cat. There was the slight movement of rising and falling coming from the mound.

Removing his shades, Wesker gave the tussled heap a sharp stare. (Do humans ever do anything besides sleep?) While he had been human himself, that phase of his life had ended nearly fifteen years ago.

Now he needed only a few hours sleep every three days or so. More time for efficiency…but this human child spent half her time snoozing.

He didn't really blame her; as there was absolutely nothing provided to her for entertainment. Still…one would think a human would spend more time pondering ways of escape, or raging at the security camera.

Not simply flopped out like a feline on a summer afternoon. Growling came from his dogs; as they had caught the girl's scent. They pawed at the door, whining to get in.

Wesker smiled, looking down at the eager guardians. "Would you like to greet our guest?" The growls turned to snarls of hunger. "Alright…I will let you in…but stand DOWN. I don't want her harmed…yet." Unlocking the door, he waved the beasts in. They rushed towards the cot; one yanking the sheets off with a fierce toss of its head.

Screaming from the startled human drove the hounds instincts further, and one savagely tried to bite into her arm. The girl clawed at the animal's snout, and succeeded in jabbing it in the eye.

With a yelp, it backed off. Wesker sprinted into the room, and tossed the barking creature away. It skidded on its claws, scrabbling for purchase. Wesker glared the guardians down. "That's quite enough! OUT!" His eyes blazed a bright crimson.

The dogs obeyed. Heads down, gaze cast aside, they trotted out and sat patiently in the hallway. Wesker turned to the frightened human. ( No matter how much I train those mutts, their killing instinct is simply too powerful…must work on that still.)

He didn't want the mansion's only human guest dying too quickly. Where's the amusement in that? Pitiful really.

Kat breathed heavily, and backed up into the wall, turning even paler. Palms sweating, she never averted her eyes from Wesker's burning gaze. It was like she was fixed on it. That look truly terrified her. The cold, predatory eyes of a shark paled in comparison with Wesker's crimson ones.

Kat's heartbeat was slow and pounding; she could feel the pulse in her teeth. Everything seemed to slow down before her. Vision blurring, she fought the urge to faint; she would have been beyond disgusted with herself if that happened. Regaining clarity, she tensed against the metal wall, fingernails biting into it painfully. Wincing, she edged herself away from the monster before her.

Wesker straightened as he continued to stare at the human; fists clenching at his sides. (Will she be fool enough to attempt an escape? Hmm…only time may tell.) He mused as he began to step closer. The simple action caused a total panic. The girl screamed, and flung herself at the open door, forgetting what waited in the hallway.

Kat could barely stand the pressure from fear; its level was so intense. It clawed like fire at her insides. (Have to get out, have to get out) Her thoughts were splintered; frantic and almost useless.

Ferocious growling made her mad dash for the hallway come to a dead stop. The same dogs from a few moments ago, confidently strode forward, glistening teeth bared; impossibly tall beasts…unnatural.

A sudden chilling presence behind Kat, made her squeal and jump. Had her attempt been successful, she would have cleared the dogs and started along the hallway. But a steely, gloved hand yanked her painfully back; tossing her into the wall.

The impact bruised her back, she was sure; but Kat had a suspicion that Wesker could have thrown her much, much harder, and that he was holding off.

Her mind raced as aching pain blasted her back and shoulders. (What the hell is Wesker playing at?) Her mind screamed. Struggling, Kat stood, glaring in fear and hatred at her tormentor; who simply stood calmly, watching her every move with a smirk.

The man folded his arms and shook his head, as if he was silently scolding a disobedient student in a classroom. Kat gulped and backed up, well aware of how trapped she was. (If he's going to kill me, why doesn't he just get it over with?)

People had told her that the newly evolved had two plain and simple ways for dealing with a human: One, kill them outright, or two experimentation. But Wesker had kept Kat in this miserable cell for days now, and she had yet to be tossed in a lab.

And as far as killing her outright was concerned, the man seemed to be toying with her. Clearly, the so-called evolved had enough strength to crush a human into pulp with ease.

Wesker though, was most definitely not interested in such a lethal demonstration. He seemed to be observing her, calculating some sort of plan, or a mesh of ideas. Probably all of them were most unpleasant in the lightest of terms.

"Fool of a child…what was your plan exactly? Once you got past me, and the dogs… then what? Crash your way through a three-inch thick metal door? Please, at least have the decency of showing some intelligence despite your humanity…it would simplify things greatly."

Wesker felt conversational and at ease…amused by the human's antics. (What a silly creature indeed) He thought, circling her.

Kat thought her heart might explode from the tension in the room. She felt sick with fear and anger; unable to mask the emotions from her captor. The man got unbearably close, bearing down on her. Finally, his arm shot out and gripped her elbow in a tight, bruising hold. But he made no move to throw her across the room like a rag doll.

Wesker brought his face very close, mere inches away from the girl's. "Remember, child, that at ANY time…I can kill you without a second thought. Remember that you are a 'guest' here, and that you must obey any and ALL rules during your…stay with us." His eyes glowed like fading embers from a camp fire.

"Also understand, that I may decide to make you one of us…into something far better

than a pathetic human…know that a multitude of options concerning your future lie ahead, and any one of them can be chosen. So please, do stay in line."

Wesker intensified his grip on the human's arm even more; but not to the point of breakage. He simply wanted her total comprehension of her situation.

Pulsating shots of pain bit into the very bone in Kat's arm; it felt as if her arteries would burst from the squeezing. The demon man chuckled before releasing her, allowing her to fall onto the floor in a gasping heap.

Angry red, yellowish and blue colored marks from his gloved hand now graced the mid point of her arm. The area throbbed a while as the pain began to ebb.

Running a trembling hand over her wounded elbow, Kat glared venomous daggers at Wesker. He had taken a few steps back, and was now admiring his handiwork. Shaking his head in mock sympathy, the man reached into his pocket and extracted the shinning silver blade of her prized knife.

Instead of running Kat through with the weapon, Wesker smiled and tossed it to her. It clattered on the floor; just barely a foot from her shaking hand. Even the knife seemed to mock her.

Kat stared at the blade, then at Wesker; at a complete loss with what to think. Struggling to speak, she managed a few words. "W-why are you giving me…my knife?" her voice was strained.

The red-eyed man looked at her intently as she boldly met the gaze from hell. When no answer came, Kat grew enraged. "WHY DID YOU GIVE ME…THE KNIFE?"

Her scream echoed about the room rather mutely as the walls absorbed most of its brunt. Snarling came from the hallway as the dogs grew agitated.

Silencing the hounds with an over the shoulder glance, Wesker nodded at the shocked and angry being before him.

"You will find out soon enough, child. But may I suggest that you…practice those survival skills you so clearly demonstrated when we first met. Who knows? Perhaps they may come to be useful again soon…quite soon infact. But don't fret…you have at least an entire day to prepare yourself. Good night little human." Placing the shades back on his face, Wesker left; shutting the door with a clang.

Kat's insides did a somersault as she felt her heart drop right out of her chest. "Prepare myself? For what?…for what?" She asked the empty room, which offered no response. Nausea gripped her and she raced to the door to scream after the demon that called himself Wesker. "FOR WHAT?" Her voice grew hoarse from the force of her shout. Only dim laughter met her desperate ears.

Collapsing to the chilling hardness of the floor, Kat finally broke down into sobs; clinging to the unfeeling slick metal of the door with clenched fingers. She would have preferred a quick death to this torment…anything but this icy, unstoppable anxiety that continued to grow within.

Out in the hallway, Wesker smiled at the sound of sobbing and screaming. (That child really should get a move on with knife practice) He thought. "After all," he said looking down at the dogs that eagerly gazed up at him. "She'll be playing to quite the audience!"

Many prominent figures in the New World were due to arrive tomorrow; mostly from Spain and Africa. And he wanted to make sure they were entertained during their stay, especially if the weather failed to improve.

But controlling the elements was something even a god like him, had yet to accomplish. The mansion was mostly silent during this hour of the night; only the occasional servant or guard wandered past. Wesker preferred it this way; more space for concentration.

Reaching his office, he ushered in the hounds before entering the calming darkness himself; the flickering fire the only source of light to be had.

**Author's note: **I'll see if increasing the font and spacing out the lines makes things easier for reading. I have Windows 2000, so maybe that's part of the problem. It gets cranky…kinda like my cats! Anyway, I hope you like this chapter, and there will be more on the way soon.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's note: **I am unsure how many more villains the story should have besides my dearest Wesker, as it is mostly about him and Kat. Probably only a couple more will be featured in the upcoming chapters. Hope that's ok. Anyway, this is going to be one of the darker chapters in the story, so just a heads up.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Resident Evil.

The gleaming blade of the combat knife shone brightly in the holding cell, as Kat reached a tentative hand down and plucked it off the floor. Metal scraped against the concrete unpleasantly.

It felt good to hold her currently only weapon though; the familiarity of its weight, and the razor sharpness of its flawless edge calmed her racing heart. Oh, what she wouldn't give to plunge this beauty into Wesker's smug face.

Wouldn't really do much besides anger him, but it was still a tantalizing fantasy. While Kat had only been taught knife defense for less than a year, and while she was only twelve years old, she had a natural flow for the fight.

Her traveling group leader, Jose, had declared her the best among them; having trained her how to use the blade properly. It certainly wasn't saying much, considering only thirty people made up the group. But the encouragement helped.

Kat had been a fairly awkward child. Never really balanced, always falling off of stuff; slow runner, trying to constantly catch up. (Funny how it took an apocalypse for me to come around.) She thought wryly. Shaking her head.

Glancing at the door, she froze. Someone had just looked in the window…she was not alone. But Kat didn't feel the overwhelming and cold presence of Wesker. So who was it?

Hopping to her feet, she edged her way to the door and looked through the viewing glass. Nothing. Only silence all along the miserable hallway…no people. But she could have sworn that a person had been there, looking in. The face had belonged to an older woman, with long white hair and piercing green eyes.

The woman had appeared haggard and afraid…but no one was out in the hallway. Kat shivered and backed up to sit on the cot. ( Either I'm seeing things, or this place is haunted…hopefully the former.)

Having to deal with monsters AND ghosts was not something that ranked high on her list of priorities…and yet if it happened to be the latter…well, at least she could look at it as not having to be alone. If the mansion was indeed haunted, it came as no surprise.

(Now, if only something angry and violent could torment Wesker. That would make my happy day!) Kat grinned to herself, but such a sign of happiness soon faded.

Fingering the blade again, she stared at the far wall opposite her. So, that evolved freak wanted her to practice…with this knife. Just what exactly was she going to be forced to fight?

Sickening fear stalked her again, sinking its teeth into the back of her neck and shaking her like an old towel; trying to rip her apart. What was the point really, of such a fight? She was, or was going to be an experiment…nothing more.

This new world had destroyed so much of humanity. Tortured, mutilated, and killed countless. Humans were vermin to them. So what was the excitement of watching rats fight when the observers would slaughter them in the end?

Doesn't matter which rat wins, which rat gets hurt the least…because all the fighters are doomed to die…useless…meaningless. The crushing weight of the past few years came down on Kat, and she brought her hands to her face, shielding her crying from no one in particular.

Smooth, cool metal pressed against her forehead. She still had the knife. Slowly, she took her trembling hands away from her tear-stained face and glared at the blade. (Well, mister Wesker…looks like you just gave me my final ticket out of this hell…for good.)

Kat gritted her teeth, and raised the tip of the weapon. Turning over her wrist, she exposed the veins and arteries that lay within. Her vision grew clear as she focused on the largest vein. Placing the sharp metal tip on top of the pulsing river of life, she simply stared.

Such an easy thing…to let the metal slice through and decorate this horribly spare cell…to unleash a torrent of crimson from a body in a final gesture of ill will towards a world that sought to abuse it…to deny that world the satisfaction of being able to carry out that abuse. Her life didn't matter now. Everything wanted to end it…so what was the point?

Seeming to freeze from unseen ice, Kat kept her gaze on the potential gruesome task. Breathing calm and unhindered. Time was lost as her body grew numb from being in one place too long. Her mind was blank. Then a furious knock and shout came from the door, breaking the spell.

She jerked the knife away from her wrist, and looked in the direction of the commotion. It felt as if she had woken from a long and confusing dream, and gotten too much sleep as a result.

The terrified face of the servant Jenison was there at the window. The woman frantically opened the door and came swooping in, slamming the food tray she had been carrying down with a clatter; eyes now brimming with tears and burning a brilliant red with emotion. Grabbing the knife, she hissed and tossed it aside. Turning her fearful face to Kat, she clenched her fists at her sides.

"Child…don't …ever…even think…why?" Jenison's voice was greatly pained. "Who gave you that knife? Who?" Without a second thought, she reached out and embraced the girl tightly. This human was the closest thing to a daughter Jenison had, and she didn't care what anyone would ever think.

Didn't care about the abyss of trouble she just landed herself in. only cared about this lost child and protecting her…even though she would probably fail such a task. The girl sat limply, neither returning the hug, nor rejecting it.

Kat was surprised at the embrace, but she didn't recoil. Jenison had probably saved her from opening up her wrist. The thought of doing such a thing to herself now was suddenly and violently disgusting. Shock formed in her stomach. (I almost killed myself…killed…cant let that happen…how…) Kat's mind was going at a slow but steady speed as she digested the situation.

No, she would not kill herself. Most certainly not…there was still a chance her friends were still out there searching for her. She couldn't let this God-awful place get to her again…she couldn't let Wesker get to her again…or her fear.

(I'm only twelve, and I nearly took my own life. What the hell is WRONG WITH YOU, KAT?) She screamed to herself, tears forming in her eyes. Reaching forward, she returned the hug slowly. Jenison held her tightly for a few more moments before withdrawing and standing up.

The fire had left her dark eyes as she regarded the human before her. Jenison folded her arms and sighed. "Who gave you that knife?" She asked, even though she half knew the answer. The girl shivered and a few more tears trickled out. But when the human spoke, her voice was barely a whisper.

"Wesker." Kat stated, staring at the floor. "He told me to practice…practice with the knife. Told me I have to fight. Wouldn't say what or when." She stood and wandered over to the sink, splashing some water on her face. Turning to Jenison, she looked on with a pleading gaze.

"What is that supposed to mean? What is he planning?" Kat's voice nearly cracked with emotion. Jenison gave a measured look before rubbing her neck warily.

"It means, simply, that you will be fighting some other experiment before an audience. Knowing Wesker, that audience will be most unpleasant. Sir Wesker isn't the only one in charge I'm afraid. While he controls mostly everything in the U.S, he has subordinates who control other countries." The servant looked away and growled at the thought.

The sound was quite animalistic, seeming to come from a wolf rather than a person. Kat shrank back from that growl, flinching when Jenison's gaze met her own. While Kat knew that this kind woman meant her no harm, she had only heard that kind of growl once before, years ago when that horrid virus was first spread. She knew it all too well. It had been her brother, Tom, who had been the first in her family affected…

Kat's brother had come home from school far later than expected. Tom had always been a caring person, not once coming across as angry or violent. But something in his demeanor changed drastically.

He had come sweeping through the front door, wearing a smile despite the chaos on the news about entire cities being affected by some bizarre and terrible phenomenon. Seattle had been allegedly untouched so far, although it wasn't confirmed. And things were going about with a relative normal air. But Tom coming home past five in the afternoon without a call had warranted Kat's parents calling the police.

Tom had stalked into the living room where Kat was sitting and completing homework. Their father soon came stomping in after, beyond furious. Tom had simply stood there, eyeing his dad with an unsettling look. He had always held the up most respect for his father. But that had vanished.

Tom had worn a new look. It was calculating and predatory. He smiled unpleasantly and his eyes changed color. From a calm green to a terrible crimson, and he began advancing towards his dad and sister.

He spoke, voice like ice. "Something new and beyond wonderful has been happening all over…surely you have heard of it? Well, I am now part of that…part of something great. The whole damn school was overtaken this morning…funny as hell really."

Their father had been dumbstruck, mouth open. Terror filled his face and he backed off, putting himself between Kat and Tom. Kat's brother was not keen on the defensive posture. "You're actually scared? Come on, dad. I'm your son still…doesn't matter what the news says…I'm the same basically…only better!" Tom's grin had faded and was replaced by annoyance.

"Oh, I get what's happening. Because I'm different now, you want nothing to do with me, is that it?" His eyes were so fiery, they rivaled the flame that danced from the candles on the kitchen table. Something shiny, sleek and black slid from his shoulder. It was a tentacle…deathly and disgusting. Several more emerged from his back.

"TOM!" A woman's voice shrieked from the kitchen doorway. Kat's mother was standing there shaking uncontrollably. "Tom," She sobbed, crumbling from fear and shock. "Please stop…you need help…I…I heard on the news that people are working on a cure…they could make you-" But her sentence was cut short as leech like tentacles shot out and seized her neck.

Kat screamed and cried. "MOMMY!" She grabbed her still sharp pencil and leaped towards Tom; plunging it as deep and viciously as she could into the pulsating black mass that was strangling her mother. Nightmarish hissing of rage and pain filled the entire house. Tom retracted the virus tentacles and released their mom, who collapsed into a gasping heap.

Struggling to breathe, her neck had several puncture wounds from pointed barbs on the inky tentacles that had nearly claimed her life. Scrabbling at her throat, she tried to stand, and fell over instead, smashing a vase.

Kat began to cry, tears brimming her eyes and partially blinding her. "Mommy!" she screamed again and ran for her. But an angry force knocked her down. She lay on her back, blinking from pain and tears. Her father was entangled by the same barbed mess, as Tom sought to exact the same damage on him.

Blood seeped from nasty wounds in their father's chest, stomach and neck. The barbs on the tentacles had dug in deeply, tearing at muscles and veins. Tom looked down at his sister, smiling. Some of the blood had gotten on his chin from the violence, and he licked it off contentedly.

Kat couldn't move; the fear was too great. It was as if someone had encased her in plaster and let it set in the heat of the august sun. A loud, bloody thump came from nearby, as her father was released. He crawled towards her, trying to reach out and comfort his daughter despite his great pain, and was shoved back with disgust by Tom who turned his attention to his little sister.

With another hiss, he extracted the pencil, which had remained lodged in him this whole time. Eyeing the offending makeshift weapon, he knelt down beside Kat, who whimpered and attempted to scoot away from the monster that called itself her brother.

Clicking his tongue in disapproval, he tossed the pencil aside. "Tom…Tom." Kat whispered, pleading with him, breathing the words rather than saying them.

But he heard her clearly. "Yes, little sis? You want me to stop being so scary and hurtful? Well, I'm afraid I cant do that. It's a whole new world out there. Its getting better each day. And now mommy and daddy will be just like me! Stronger…better." Tom's eyes burned again, as Kat crawled away from him, backing into the wall, frantically looking from her mom to her dad; who were both equally in pain.

Chuckling came from her brother. "You know sis…I'm not sure if I should turn you, or kill you. Speaking of which, where's little Grace?" He liked some more blood off his hand. When he saw the storm of worry on Kat's face, he smiled wide. "Oh, right…she is at a sleep over with neighborhood friends…how convenient."

Kat was only nine, but suddenly felt the protective instincts akin to a mother Grizzly. (You aren't going to get to Grace you dirty monster) Her thoughts raged. (I don't care if you are my brother. You hurt…almost killed) She couldn't finish her train of thought, as Tom began moving towards her, smiling with confidence.

A heavy wooden chair sat right next to Kat's leg. The tips of its legs were rather pointy. Without a second though, she reached and grabbed the chair, bringing it up over her head and charging forward with a snarl.

Surprised from the show of strength, and still getting used to his new abilities, Tom failed to dodge the attack properly. One of the chairs pointed legs, which was partially broken and splintered, rammed his mid-section, and dug in quite an impressive distance for having been wielded by a nine year old.

Gasping and staggering back, Tom was distracted enough for Kat to race past him and into the kitchen. Grabbing the phone, she dialed for the police in a flourish. But no answer came from the other line. The phone was dead. That left her cell phone…all the way upstairs in her room…past the living room where Tom was.

But her mother's purse was sitting on the countertop a few feet away. Kat flung herself at it and dug through. Flipping the blue cell phone open, she tried the cops once again. But the same silence pressed against her ear uncomfortably. What the hell was going on? She understood land-lines being out of service, but satellites?

Then nightmarish sounds came from behind her. The slimy sound of those horrible black tentacles reaching for her with purpose…and a low growl. It seemed to vibrate the kitchen walls. A large angry dog should have made such a sound.

But Kat knew there was no dog in the house…and she had a sickening feeling coursing throughout her whole body. It felt like her heart would burst from the fear. Her lungs felt like sandpaper, and her mouth was dry. She dropped the phone and it clattered on the floor. Hissing came from Tom as he drew closer.

Slowly turning with dread, Kat shook and steadied herself on the counters edge. Her brother stood, balefully glaring with a molten gaze. The wound on his stomach from the chair, had now closed, and the marks from the impact were vanishing before Kat's very eyes. Whatever her brother had become…he was most certainly not human…something unnatural…and lethal.

Tom shook his head with mock pity. "You know, I really expected you to co-operate, Kat. But seeing as how you tried to kill me, I feel it's only fair if I return the favor. And besides…mom and dad won't mind having only two children…they will be joining me soon anyway." He got closer and closer. "Not to mention that all this excitement has made me hungry…"

At this, Kat screamed and scrambled over the other countertop. Leaping onto the kitchen table, she dashed across it with feline agility; knocking over and smashing plates and glasses. Reaching the back door, she flung it open and ran out into the darkness of an early December evening; feeling the cold wind on her face and the wet grass under her bare feet.

Her only thoughts were to reach her neighbor's house and make sure Grace was alright. Then she would try to contact the police again, and most of all, worn her neighbors about the monstrosity disguised as her own brother.

When she came to the fence a second later, she easily climbed it and jumped into another backyard; hoping the people would forgive her for trespassing. Coming to a gate, she unlocked it with a jerking nervous motion and found herself in the driveway. Running out into the street, she continued her mad dash. While she probably should have tried to ask any neighbor for help, the thought of her sister made her forget all that.

The pavement was rough on her feet, but she ignored the pain and kept going. Grace's friends lived three blocks from their home, but the distance didn't matter. Kat could never really bring herself to look over her shoulder, fearing she would see the red eyes and sneering face of Tom.

Her speed at running shocked her, but she had been taught that fear, despite feeling horrible in your gut, can make you do incredible things. Eventually, she reached the neighbors house, but to her horror, they were not home.

Then, she remembered that they were going to take Grace and her friends to the movies tonight, and would not be home for another hour or so. Kat slapped her forehead painfully and stomped around the yard angrily, tears forming in her eyes. Far off down the street, she heard a dreadfully familiar voice call out. It was still pretty distant, about a block or so away.

But it made Kat's skin crawl. (He…followed me…cant let him know I'm here…) With that thought, Kat continued to run, keeping to the shrubbery and trees of people's yards. Her muscles protested the speed and jumping, but she put the pain out of her mind and kept going. It was all she could do to stay sane.

For another half hour she would run, eventually coming to a convenience store and finally being able to use their phone to contact her neighbors and police. It would take a few minutes for the cops to arrive, and a full twenty for her neighbors to pick her up. But the nightmare was far from over….

The unyielding thoughts about that terrible night ran their course in less than a minute. Kat was staring at the holding cell's sink, eyes glazed with sadness. She wanted to tell Jenison about that hellish experience, but couldn't yet bring herself to do so. It was far too painful…and too soon.

**Author's note:** Just felt the need to get some of Kat's back-story through. I thought it was too vague in the first chapter. Anyway, hope it was good. Sorry for the delay in updates to…car trouble had taken up much of my time…grrrrrr.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's note: **I apologize for the time between updates. This chapter took some re-working, but I think it turned out good. I send a thousand curses onto the head of whoever invented writer's block…and I mean it. My curses will find you! HA. HA. HA… Anyway, this chapter will not be as depressing as the previous one…gloomy weather influenced the writing.

**Disclaimer: ** I don't own Resident Evil

The combat chambers within the deepest levels of the mansion were without much illumination, save for a single overhead light. An eerie hum from the constant flow of the air conditioning thickened the atmosphere like coagulated blood. The arena itself was a large rectangle, about twenty yards wide, and fifty yards long. There was another three times the size, but that was for much larger combatants.

There were about a dozen concrete and iron cages lining the arena. Two currently contained an experiment. One was something commonly known as a Regenerator. Its haphazard breathing cut the stillness as it wandered aimlessly about its confinement, irritated at the cramped space.

Its twisted face, forced into a horrific, perpetual grin by too many razor sharp teeth, was shadowed by the lack of light. But its lethal teeth shone perfectly despite the dimness. Burning eyes flashed dangerously at the occupant in the second cage; who sat still and calm, staring down the Regenerator with her own sun-like flames.

Thick bars separated the two beasts, but even if there had been none, the hunched and crouched, long-haired figure wouldn't have given the Regenerator a second glance. The smiling monster was no real threat to her. The creature that had once been a little girl named Lisa was not bothered by much; except for bright light, cars, and the frightening man with sunglasses.

Even though she could no longer really to speak much, she could communicate through basic sign language and gestures. But there was no way she could ever convey why the shaded man frightened her. He simply did. Lisa no longer remembered the man's name, but she knew his scent and the sound of his voice all too well. Even the way he walked, and how his shoes made particular vibrations on the floor, unsettled her.

Feral snarling came from the one in the cell next to her, as the Regenerator reacted violently to a scurrying mouse. Lisa jumped, startled at the sudden noise. Narrowing her eyes, she stood. While her back had an unnatural hunch from her protruding spine, and she walked on the balls of her feet to accommodate her longer than normal ankles, she could move with shocking speed.

Which she did; in merely two lightening strides she brought herself to the metal bars.

Giving the Regenerator an annoyed snort, she bared her own teeth, which were still round and flat like a human's. Baleful eyes regarded Lisa before the other monster turned away, keeping its back and rear toward her general direction. It focused its energy on trying to locate the offending mouse, which had since vanished into a tiny hole in the corner.

Lisa grumbled a little nonsense before withdrawing, and gave a final huff at the other occupant. At least the ever-smiling being had the sense to keep quiet and leave her be. Its foul stench hurt her nose, and the strained breathing vexed her. Gazing out at the wide expanse of the arena, she blinked; remembering vague and unpleasant things happened there.

She knew she had been a part of them, had gotten hurt, had hurt others…but it was so foggy, she finally gave up concentrating on thoughts. It was easier to just lie down and sleep. Since she no longer felt the cold, Lisa was able to curl up almost anywhere; despite the hard concrete floor. Closing her yellow eyes, she slipped into slumber.

Just a few levels above the two monsters, Kat was finishing her dinner…or breakfast. Maybe it was lunch. She really couldn't tell. All she knew, was that she was hungry. The servant woman Jenison, had long since left the cell, not wanting to expose Kat to whatever punishment was in store. She had comforted Kat, and the camera in the corner had recorded the simple gesture of a hug and kind, reassuring words. Unfortunately, such an act of kindness towards a human was deeply frowned upon.

Kat thirstily gulped down some bottled water before standing up and stretching. At long last, exhaustion didn't plague her. Of course, now she wanted to run a marathon. The cup of coffee had worked its amazing magic, but there was nowhere to expend the energy. Her combat knife was gone as well. Jenison had snatched it up and stalked out of the cell after making sure Kat was calmed down to relative sanity. Kat shivered at the past hour of events. She needed help, serious professional help…but none was coming.

All she could do was at least try and keep things together; despite the horrors of this place. Unfamiliar voices came from the outside hallway, about half a dozen of them. One was a woman's voice, and it held a thick accent…Italian? Or was it Spanish? And another voice, belonging to a man, sounded like some nasally mafia guy from Brooklyn. A third voice, carried an English accent. But it did not belong to Wesker, it was much older, and a little tired. While Kat couldn't see their faces, she heard distinctively that they were in an argument. Although it was at best casually heated, it was still an argument.

(Who the hell are these people? And why can't these freaks leave me be for once? Am I really that interesting? Don't think so…don't think so. Just a human. A twelve year old girl. Not like I'm some agent of some resistance thing…) She mentally shouted to herself all the frustrations she had…with…well, everything in general. Glaring at the ground and gritting her teeth, she bunched her hands at her sides and marched to the door's viewing window. Kat shoved her face at the glass and peered out, not caring if the new people saw or not.

There they stood, in a messy circle, arguing….and a few of them laughing, eyes flashing with mirth. The Italian woman wore an obscene dress, and had her hair up in a severe bun; completely impeccable in every way….and probably as bitchy and nasty as she was perfect. The nasally mafia man wore a gray suit and brown gloves, he had pale hair and even paler eyes. While he was lean and of only average height he radiated a certain dangerous energy…and then there was the elder British man.

He was wizened and a little bent, but he no doubt carried the virus. The other three people of the group were simple guards, guns trained on thin air. Kat snorted, shaking her head. (Well, what do you know? Wonder if they even realize I'm here?) Smiling for the first time in days, she kept eves dropping and watching them. (Wonder if Wesker knows they're not really working?) That answer was probably, yes. Wesker seemed to know a lot of things the average person would not, and could not possibly know…but then he was far from average.

(Hope he can't read minds yet..) Kat had pressed her face almost directly onto the glass, and had to wipe off the fog with her sleeve. She then actually caught herself in mid-chuckle at a joke the mafia guy had tossed in the argument for good measure. Who would have thought the 'evolved' had a sense of humor? That seemed like an 'all too human' trait. But Kat had been separated from the outside world that lay beyond her traveling survivor group for years; so she was unfamiliar with how the new society people behaved…besides being dangerous and violent towards humans.

Kat placed her cold hands on the edge of the window and continued to watch the strangers out in the hallway; wondering if any of them had families, or celebrated the holidays…the thought of them doing such things seemed so alien, but Kat had a feeling they probably did many things just like humans. Not that they would ever admit what they did was human….oh no.

Kat had been so caught up in their conversation, she failed to realize the old man was watching her. And when she did finally lock eyes with him, she gasped and fell backwards, scrambling away from the door. The argument stopped. Hurrying, she slipped behind the cot, crouching on the chilly floor. The voices neared. A knock came at the door…it was almost polite. Almost.

Then came an impatient huff of annoyance; Kat could imagine the person rolling their eyes and acting like a bored teenager. The huff sounded female. And the voice that came next confirmed that. " If you are playing hide and seek human, let me tell you we haven't the patience for such a silly game." The Italian woman was significantly past the edge of irritability and bordering on anger. When Kat failed to speak up, the woman sighed rather dramatically and shoved open the door; shiny high heels clicking on the concrete.

" Since you seem determined to hide like the vermin you are, I'll make this quick. You are to come with us. Sir Wesker has some interesting plans for you. Unfortunately, they require that you actually remove yourself from behind that cot; if such a thing is possible." Excella Gione felt her temper rise even more at the lack of response. Taking a deep breath, she calmed herself. After all, what was to be expected when forced to deal with a human? And a child at that. Walking up to the back of the cot, her green eyes blazed intently as a flicker of red flew across them.

Was this human even awake? Excella grumbled and crossed her arms. "If you are indeed still alive, then kindly take the measure to relive yourself if necessary before we take you to your appointed place. And make it quick." At long last the girl raised her dark haired head and stared up through the rumpled curtain. She didn't speak, simply stood, at a painfully slow speed; watching Excella with wary eyes. Then she quietly slipped into the bathroom.

The Italian woman turned around briskly and marched out to stand beside Ricardo Irving, who smirked at her in amusement. "You know, it would help people's perception of your o so charming demeanor if you actually tried to not be bitchy." The Brooklyn native chuckled at his own words; which were met with yet another roll of the eyes from Excella, who pretended not to notice him.

Irving knew she detested him, and would often times ignore him completely, but still he enjoyed bothering her to no end. She was the only superior he had that would allow his limbs to remain attached no matter what he said. So he gladly took the opportunity. The sound of running water and reluctant footsteps turned his attention to the girl. Only a kid…nothing more. Irving didn't care for children much.

Even the evolved children of the new world still seriously tested his patience. Human children were far worse. No attention span, and less intelligence. In fact, Irving thought the only use a human child should have was serving as cattle. The girl walked aimlessly like a zombie as she came to the door. Stopping, she kept glancing from him, to Excella, then to Spencer's brother, Johnathon.

Kat found that she wasn't shaking for once. Odd, but nice. Finally, her nerves had calmed down…in the presence of three more unpleasant strangers. Maybe that familiar numb, detached feeling was returning to claim her again. If it did, it might make dealing with whatever was coming up slightly easier. A sudden question from the nasally mafia guy made her jump and back into the wall, bruising her shoulder.

"What's your name kid?" His pale eyes narrowed as Irving smiled at her ridiculous antics. Was some servant giving this human coffee? She was such a silly, twitchy thing. The girl looked at him, startled by the question…nearly dumbfounded. "I said sweetheart, what's your name?" more confused blinking answered his question. Sighing with a shrug, he decided to stop asking. It was then that she finally mumbled "Kat."

(Kat, huh? Strange name…but rather fitting) Irving thought. This human did act rather feline. Her hair was experiencing static frizz, her fingers were curled into claws, and her eyes were always wide. Added to that mix, her back was hunched a bit as she clutched her shoulder.

Excella gave an audible sigh, glaring at Irving and the human. "Sir Wesker will be quite displeased if we do not reach the arena sometime this century." Her accent was crisp and even more clean when she was angry. Irving gave her another smirk in return. Johnathon remained silent, eyeing the human curiously. "Are we done here Irving? If so, then lets get a move on, shall we?" Excella fought the urge to smack his smug face. The perpetually annoying man complied, reaching out and grabbing the girl's arm.

Guards kept their weapons trained on the human while she was led away from the lonely holding cell block, and into the more brightly lit hallway. It was also warmer, and Kat felt relief that the ever present chill that lurked in her cell, was at least temporarily gone. As the group passed by the high arched windows, she saw that the weather had quit raining pitchforks. It would be dark soon, but the clouds had parted, showing the brilliant colors of a sunset.

The purple, pink, red and orange splashes almost hurt Kat's eyes when she saw them. The cell's poor artificial lighting had weakened her eyes, and they took some adjusting to the vibrant hues. Chuckling came from the one called Irving. She did her best to keep her eyes straight ahead.

"That is what we call, a sunset ladies and gentlemen! No need to stare like an idiot." Irving flicked the back of Kat's head, smiling as she winced from the pain. He had drawn blood from her scalp. Wiping it on the back of her outfit, he continued to roughly haul her along. What the Boss had planned for her was going to be fun to watch…

Albert Wesker sat at his grand desk, staring across it at the servant, Jenison who stood, head bowed a bit; but keeping her gaze locked on his. "Give me a reason, dearheart, why I should not tear your arm off, or in the very least, fire you." His eyes burned like hellfire behind his shades. He was starting to think that this woman truly wanted the human girl to survive…maybe even escape…if such a thing was possible from this place. Jenison breathed in deep and exhaled.

"Sir Wesker, I was merely trying to prevent the girl from taking her own life. As the footage reveals, she had that knife poised to slice her wrist. If she had succeeded, a valuable test subject would be long gone. Security personal had failed to respond to that crisis for a full thirty minutes. It was by chance that I came along to deliver food and discovered what almost took place." Jenison concentrated on slowing her heart rate and breathing. It paid to be calm in Wesker's presence.

The tyrant simply stared back at her, contemplating what she said. Wesker tilted his head forward. "Are you trying to pin this little incident on the security personal? I was aware of what was going on. I watched the scene for several minutes before I was called away. I instructed the personal to do nothing unless…blood was spilled. I wished to see what would happen. We have every mean of saving someone from blood loss, Jenison." He rose from the chair and walked over to her side.

"Which is why I am asking you to justify why you fluttered into that room like a frightened mother hen." Now he moved right in front of her, his presence was like the oppressive, impenetrable shadows in a forest. "I gave you a warning not too long ago. Must I keep reminding you of the order of things?" He brought his face close to Jenison's, very close. And it was a knock on the door that stopped him from almost pressing his nose to hers. Growling, Wesker stood back and marched to the door.

Jenison swayed a bit, trying to keep upright. The fierce eyes of the two infected Dobermans shown from the blackness in the office's far corner. She heard her superior open the door with a flurry of annoyance. "What is it?" Wesker's voice icily drifted out to greet the person.

"Sir, the subject is ready. Irving and the others brought her to the arena." The news seemed to please the foul temper of the tyrant. Jenison could detect the ease returning to his voice as he dismissed the soldier. She turned around slowly, and saw him standing there, smiling. A disgusting creepy sensation spiraled up her spine.

Wesker knew he had to deal with the little emotional problem Jenison was experiencing. But he wanted to punish her for it in another manner besides firing her. She helped keep things running at the mansion; it would be a loss to not have her employed anymore. Unfortunately for her, she was still going to be punished. And an indirect rather than direct way of carrying out said punishment, would probably produce better results.

"On second thought, dear Jenison, come with me. I have something to show you. Your little friend is going either sink or swim, and whatever happens, I want you to be there. My treat." Wesker went up to her again and led her out, one gloved hand on her shoulder; grip iron tight. A few bones could be heard breaking into powder as Jenison whimpered. The tyrant only chuckled at the sound.

**Author's note: **Good to have the brain juices for writing flowing again! The next chapter will be up much, much sooner.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's note: **Sorry for the lack of updates. Accursed gremlins attacked my computer and I couldn't connect to the internet for almost a week after I changed servers. Then it decided to keep shutting down on me and randomly restarting. Grrrrrrrrrr…

When Kat came to, the first thing she noticed, was that she was lying on cold concrete, face down; hair pooling around her head in black waves. For a few happy seconds, she thought she had slipped and fallen on the concrete of the main quad at her school, as she often did. For a few happy seconds, she panicked and got up to race to her homeroom, only instead of being in the school quad, she was in some strange maze of thick plexi glass, opaque walls; wondering what the hell was going on. The few happy seconds quickly left. Vaguely, Kat remembered being sprayed in the face with some sort of drug. It must have knocked her out.

And this maze was probably the 'arena' Wesker spoke so highly of. Looking up at the high ceiling, Kat could see lights; a good 100 ft or so above the floor. The damned walls made it difficult to see what lay at the sides of the arena, as they were a good 4ft taller than she was. But what she noticed the most was the sound of voices. Hundreds of them…possibly more. Straining her ears, she picked out a few distinctive voices. They all belonged to the people who brought her into the arena. She could not hear Wesker's voice though…which could be a good or a bad thing. But a couple new people must be in the viewing stands, as she caught distinctive Spanish accents.

Shaking her head, she fought the urge to yell 'shut up' and instead focused her energy on getting her bearings. Cameras were placed at different angles, probably so the sickos could capture every moment of her misery. Near her feet, which thankfully still had shoes on them, Kat could spot her knife, a standard rifle, and some kind of black object, oval shaped, with a little light on its end. Possibly an infrared scope. She was familiar with using rifles, and gladly picked it up. Grabbing the scope, she attached it to the weapon. She had also been given a belt to hold a knife, and possibly pockets for some grenades.

Now she was ready for anything…she hoped. (If these freaks want a show, by hell they will get one…time to have some fun.) Kat thought grimly. At least an opportunity to get rid of some of the built up anger was presenting itself. That is if she could handle whatever they placed in the maze. Straightening, she began walking along, slowly; they had probably placed her in the center of this winding mess. Rounding a sharp corner, she came to 4 different pathways, all snaking off into oblivion; shadows lurking everywhere. ( but of course…they just have to complicate things even more…like math..) she found herself wishing to be back in school, grumbling over a test, than here in this hell.

It seemed so funny that taking tests had been the most dreaded thing in her life a few years ago. If Kat had known then what would befall the world, her family, and herself, then she would have gladly taken every other student's math final for them. The voices from the audience echoed strangely in the maze, making Kat whirl about in fear of attacks from behind. Deciding to head down the path on her far left, the one that lead away from the audience, she jogged along, passing a camera that happened to be at eye level. Coming to a dead stop, she thought of something. Weather or not it would be witty or just plain stupid, she didn't care. Facing the camera, she stared at the lens, barely 2 ft from it, making her expression blank.

Judging from what appeared to hang from the ceiling near the audience, Kat knew that they could see the whole scene on huge monitors. She stood there, looking into the camera, gradually making her eyes burn into the lens. Then, slowly, very slowly indeed, she began to smile. It grew wider and more maniacal with each moment, until it spread in a Joker like fashion from ear to ear, looking unnatural and downright disturbing. Narrowing her eyes, she gave the camera a wink, before turning about to face the path. She looked back over her shoulder, one eyebrow raised as high as it could go, and blew a crazed kiss at the lens. (might as well have some fun while I'm still alive)

Giggling now, Kat felt elated; swinging her arms and skipping about. The pathway was quite long, seeming to extend forever in one straight line before finally tapering off to the left again. It was empty still, nothing but shadows and walls. A wooden barrel stood against the plexiglass, and a crate lay nearby. Suspicious, Kat approached with caution. Poking the barrel gently with the tip of the rifle, she jumped back, expecting explosions. None came. No sounds of ticking, nothing unusual. Extracting her knife, she slashed angrily at the wood. It shattered and exposed a stash of ammo, rifle to be exact.

What were those freaks playing at? A full box of ammo, simply sitting in a barrel, waiting for a potential user? Gingerly, she picked up the box. And opened it. bullets…nothing more. Rolling her eyes, Kat put the fresh stash in her pocket. (oh well…might as well take up their odd bouts of generosity) flipping her hair, she walked on to the crate and slashed it across it's side. A can of first aid spray stood as patiently as a dog waiting for its master. Seeing no harm in being prepared, she snatched it up. Her footsteps echoed in a muffled fashion, dull and uneven almost. Coming to another turn, this time veering off to the right, she saw nothing out of the ordinary.

(Maybe this is some kind of twisted psychological experiment. Put me in some weird environment, add weapons…and give me nothing to fight) Kat was just about to relax completely, when harsh breathing caught her attention. It was off down at the end of the path. It was ragged, irregular…strained at times. Her heart stopped at the sound. A shock of adrenaline surged in her. The breathing belonged to a creature she probably feared the most out of all the twisted monsters she had fought. A Regenerator. She flashed on the first time she encountered one. It's horrible arms had stretched to impossible lengths to reach for her….it's flaming eyes burning into her soul. But the most terrible thing about the beast was its teeth and mouth. It had unhinged it's jaw, teeth as long as her fingers bared to bite and tear.

That encounter had meant nightmares for months. The breathing down the path drew closer. Kat fought the urge to scream. That would surely urge the Regenerator to run at her…something so unnerving, the sight could deter even the most hardened person. A tall shadow loomed into view as the monster steadily walked along. Upon seeing her it halted and stared; saliva dribbling down its chin, boneless fingers clenching. Tilting its head to the side, it seemed to contemplate attacking. Piercing eyes judging the prey before it, the Regenerator finally decided on an action…it lunged forward with terrifying speed, arms reaching, mouth agape.

The creature had hoped to bite down on the tender neck of the girl before it. Instead, its teeth came clamping together with an audible click on thin air. Screaming, the girl had panicked and run, sprinting down the pathway, rifle dropped in fear and forgotten. The Regenerator growled in frustration and pursued the girl, hunger driving it wild.

Kat could barely keep from sobbing. The thing never stopped running. She thought it would only temporarily run at her, not continue at a marathon pace. A corner came into view. Practically shrieking with joy at possible salvation, she rounded it and came to a dead end. Sickening terror had her in its grip. Growling came from behind her. The sound was triumphant, happy. She was now trapped…with only her knife. Turning, she saw the Regenerator enter the small area. Dimly she heard laughing from the audience and some jeering. They had clearly hoped for more violence and fear, not a quick death.

Numb to almost everything, Kat looked to the sides of the beast before her, but the horrid thing seemed to sense her train of thought and hissed, moving quickly to block her only exit. Kat still had her knife though. She whipped it out, blade shining and held it in front of her at an angle, handle pointing outward, with the blade parallel to her arm. The Regenerator snorted at the weapon, not moved by anything save hunger, and moved in for the kill. Snarling came from behind the gray beast, making it pause in confusion.

Irritably, it turned, angry at being challenged. Another type of Regenerator stood, short spikes growing all over its body. Kat had never seen this type before, but clearly the one about to kill her was familiar with it. Turning, the smooth skinned Regenerator roared and charged, huge mouth open, only to be seized by the other. The second Regenerator contemptuously did something that made Kat's skin crawl. The short spikes suddenly extended to several times their original length, and the monster hugged the rival to it viciously, impaling the squirming being. Evidently, the spikes must have destroyed the parasites in the Regenerator's body, and it groaned and cried in pain as it exploded, smearing the walls and floor with slimy entrails.

Numbness gone, Kat raced around the grisly scene and ran back for her rifle. The spiked Regenerator hissed and followed. Grabbing the gun, Kat raised the scope's vision to her eye, took careful aim, and fired. But the beast had maneuvered out of the way just in time to avoid having one of the precious parasites destroyed. (Since when….why the hell did it get out of the way…how did it) Kat's train of thought was not allowed to finish, as the creature was quickly closing the distance. She had to run and try to gain another distance advantage. About facing, she sprinted off, hoping the beast would give up soon.

But the angry sounds it made clearly indicated that it wasn't about to give up soon. Kat furiously pounded the ground, rounding corner after corner, ignoring barrels and crates. Shadows moved up ahead and she froze mid run, almost falling over. The shadows came from dogs…huge and wolf like, eyes just as piercing as those that glared from a Regenerator. Their backs split, writhing, whipping tentacles surged from them and swiped at Kat. Teeth gnashing, one canine leapt at her throat, knocking her down, pinning her body into the concrete. Desperately, she held it's snapping jaws back, trying to get a firmer hold on the neck fur of her opponent.

The hot breath of the Plaga infected canine made Kat wretch in disgust. It stank of old meat and blood. Finally, she managed to throw it off in a heaving show of strength. But the victory was short lived. As she realized she was surrounded. The spiked regenerator was just yards away, but Kat dared not take attention from the snarling canines. She got out her knife again, back to the flat wall, frantically eyeing the circling predators. A dog lunged for her, but received a slashing blow from a combat knife. It yelped in pain and backed off, not used to having food that fought back.

Up in a private viewing booth, Albert Wesker smiled at the lovely scenes playing out before him. The girl had shown both bravery, and complete and utter stupidity. But that was to be expected when dealing with humans. Stupidity followed them like a haunting ghost; always popping up unexpectedly at the worst times and in the wrong places. He had to give the girl credit though…she seemed to be blessed with an amazing amount of luck…dumb luck, yes, but still luck. She knew her weapons, knew how to handle combat…only time would tell if she deserved to survive.

Wesker thought the vast majority of humans unworthy of walking the earth; but a select few did deserve a place in the New World. If they proved themselves tough enough, and evolved enough. Most failed miserably, but once in a while, one did prevail. He leaned forward a bit as the wonderful creation known as an Iron Maiden crept closer to the human. Ramon Salazar's dogs snapped and snarled at her, Plaga tentacles bruising and cutting her arms. They were even more aggressive than Wesker's prized Uroboros dogs, and refused to obey commands. Salazar was the one and only person whom the dogs obeyed. He could calm them with a simple glance. But then, the aristocrat was infected with Plaga like the dogs. A powerful Plaga, one that enabled him to transform, along with his 2 ever-present bodyguards, the Verdugos. He could easily revert back to his 'human' form, and his guards could change back into their normal selves.

While powerful Plaga was not like Uroboros, Controllers were practically invincible to blade and gun attacks, and much more evolved than lowly humans. So they had been accepted into the New World without delay. Standing from his seat, Wesker walked closer to the viewing screen in the private booth as a canine lunged and successfully bit the girl's arm as she screamed in agony, trying to knife the beast in the face. The Iron Maiden held back, seeming to watch the action with curiosity, trying to size up the situation; clicking its talons thoughtfully. Iron Maidens were a good deal more intelligent than normal Regenerators, able to watch and learn from others.

Wesker smirked as he got out his phone and contacted the workers who dealt with releasing creatures into the maze. "Send in dear Jenison, would you?" he was looking forward to the servant meeting the girl. The human then began throwing off the attacking dogs more and more easily, and kept swiping them in the snout or head with her knife; holding them at bay and keeping herself alive. And the Iron Maiden was simply standing there, unsure about attacking prey when it clearly had fierce competition.

Jenison the servant, had been given several fast acting, injection as punishment; ones that would turn her into something far more interesting than her usual self. Within 15 minutes, she had been turned into a 7 ft female version of what guarded Salazar. The effects of the injections would only last a few days, but that was more than enough time. The servant woman would recover fully, but Wesker was sure Jenison would remember the punishment. He made her precarious situation clear: don't aid the human in any way, and keep to your own business…or remain what you have become… permanently.

Wesker eyed the human girl as she did an impressive roll to the side to avoid being grabbed and impaled by the Iron Maiden. Another tumble got her out of the way of snapping, drooling canine jaws. But she could only sustain her dance for so long before something happened…which it would. And if she failed to survive? Well, too bad. Just another useless dead human. Wesker had originally wanted the girl for experimentation, but after examining her combat knife, and seeing firsthand her correct stance for said combat, he wanted to let her have some fun in the arena…test her skills, not her DNA.

Her skills were proving to be an odd mixture of sub-par, excellent, and downright foolish; erratic even. The Tyrant was interested to see just how foolish the girl could get in this hellish maze. He smirked at the screen as he noticed Jenison come into view in the distance. The audience had clearly seen the new addition to the maze as well, but the human remained ignorant; too absorbed in desperate fighting to notice the lethal creature that leapt and crawled towards the brawling group. Wesker had given a specific controlling substance to Jenison, so she would be unable to resist her new form's violent nature. The tall, black insect thing landed on the concrete, to walk elegantly, but dangerously closer to her target; bladed tail flicking anxiously.

"Hope you like your new friend human." Wesker said quietly, curious to see what would transpire. Removing his shades, his burning eyes fixed on the situation, and he waited contentedly for the outcome.

**Author's note: **Probably ended the chapter in a bad place, but the next one will be up in a few days.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's note:** AAAAAAAHH! I feel evil that it has taken this long to update! Sorry for the time…ugh...feeling evil…not as good as they say it is.

Disclaimer: I don't own Resident Evil

Pain was weakness in its purest form. Pain could ruin you and almost destroy you. It was also useful, as it made one learn from mistakes quickly. And it did not like to be ignored…no matter how hard one could try, it was still there, clawing and biting to get full attention. Albert Wesker knew that well. In his twenties he had been in a severe car accident; half the vehicle had been completely demolished and burnt. While he had suffered no burns, the impact had tossed him like a feeble corpse 50 ft to collide with the jagged, torn metal of a semi that had crashed with the offending car.

Since he had been flung backwards, the metal had sliced into his back, leg and shoulder. Slashes up to 15 inches had been ripped open. But that wasn't the worst part. No…a rusted piece of metal had gotten lodged directly into a cluster of nerves in his spine. It hadn't been in danger of being severed, but it was a miracle he was not paralyzed. The pain though was a hellish beast…Wesker never had forgotten that. He had been human then…weak and helpless… but had survived thanks to the efforts of Umbrella technology. It had been well over a decade since he had felt true pain. Uroboros locked out pain beautifully, although one did still feel it. It just wasn't on the scale that a human would experience.

He looked on at the human girl in the maze, and her bleeding, torn arm. Judging by her expression, it was starting to hurt her a good deal more. Humans could grin and bear it for only so long. And if the bacteria from the savage attack dogs got a decent hold, the infection could turn deadly in a matter of days. Briefly Wesker pondered what it would be like to be human and suffer the full extent of weakness and pain. Such things hadn't been a threat for so long, he was now oblivious to them…simply an observer. To have paper skin, glass bones, blood susceptible to any microbe, and stunted senses…he would feel ridiculous; an absolute joke in the scale of evolution.

Those thoughts disappeared as quickly as they came. Quite silly of him to think such things. Wesker hadn't thought of his days as a human for years. This girl, the human in the maze, had sparked the memory. He thought it a little unsettling, but set it aside. There was quite a show to watch after all.

Kat hissed through clenched teeth as the pain in her arm intensified. But just as another hound was about to leap at her again, they all stopped and grew silent, staring at something over her shoulder. Their faces relaxed from the former aggression and they backed off respectively. At first, Kat thought the spiked regenerator was advancing. But then a shriek of pain from the rubbery armed creature ended the thought. She turned and saw a long shiny blade, scythe like, jutting out from the regenerators chest. It retracted and shoved through again in another spot before cruelly twisting and slicing from side to side. The regenerator exploded, briefly showering Kat with disgusting gore.

A sudden chill and the urge to run hit Kat like a hammer, as the shadowed form of the creature that had just killed the iron maiden came into view. More than 7 ft of…well…something like a cross of an insect and reptile…more or less. There was a vague familiarity of the creature's upper face; the eyes mostly…dark and unblinking. Fingers half the length of her arm, armored and clawed, flexed contemplatively. Jaws that opened sideways clicked and snapped with a metallic ping. A thrumming sound like the purr of a panther began. It was far from friendly, sounding like a warning. Kat began to back up, palms sweating, skin growing clammy and cold. Not knowing what would set such a monster off, she couldn't afford to run. Achingly slow, she set her knife on the floor, eyes never leaving the beast.

Strength and speed emanated from the figure like live wires sparking, writhing and smoking. And uneven hiss came from the misshapen mouth and its legs tensed. Kat lost it and ran, tearing up the hallway…one heartbeat ahead of the armored horror. Claws swished at Kat's back, centimeters away from her body, making her cringe and shriek. The scream seemed to encourage the beast to keep the chase. Unfortunately, Kat was going too fast to meet the upcoming corner; and twisted too sharply in the turn, slipping and falling with a dull thump, as graceful as a bag of flour. Struggling to gather her wits and stand, Kat tried to get up, only to have a clawed foot come down abruptly and hold her in place, pressure mounting.

Black hair a tangled mess, Kat thrashed her head and twisted but the foot stayed put on her back. Sharp claws dug into her skin, drawing even more blood. The pressure from the beast's added weight was making her arm bleed more severely, intensifying the pain. Her lungs couldn't draw as much air, and she wheezed dryly when a ribbed cracked from the pressure. Gagging, Kat grew lightheaded and dizzy. Then, as quickly as the creature had attacked, it withdrew its iron tough foot and stepped back. Trying to inhale properly, Kat scrunched up from the sharp twinge, trembling and jerking. Clicks and scratches from her opponent's pacing seemed infinitely louder as her vision faded in and out.

Far off in the balcony room, Wesker was staring rather blankly at the scene, neither pleased nor displeased with the outcome so far. Sighing, he to paced around. Feeling numb was alien to him. He was someone who always felt an emotion. Weather it was positive or negative, emotion was a constant guest. Only on extremely rare occasions was he a blank slate, empty…the situation should be amusing him in the least, not making him feel tired and numb. Clenching his fists, a flicker of anger came, and he smiled at that. Good…very good. He detested numbness in all forms. Anger was something to work with. It turned to contempt as he saw the insect person wander, claws together, head down, appearing to be resisting the violent mental pull of a true killing machine.

The girl on the ground cried, pathetic tears streaming as her body was failing a basic command of getting off the damn floor. Wesker was reminded of a broken china doll being abused…beyond helpless… Losing the human girl so early on in this famed series of challenges when they had no replacement, was troubling. Very well. He would keep her alive for a while longer. For a 12 year old, she had held up well. Better than a 20 something athlete would fare. Wesker's scouts had found a human Olympic athelete around 18 months previously. The man, 26 years old, in his prime, not an ounce of fat or even the slightest injury…and he had not survived beyond 10 minutes. And here they had this 12 year old human girl who had lived for 40 minutes. Quite funny…funny indeed. Plucking his phone from his pocket, he quietly gave the command to halt the game, at least for today.

Kat was drawing excruciating breathes when she heard the sound of something emerging from the wall near her. It was a type of firearm with a laser. But it didn't point at her, it aimed for the beast looming behind; firing a dart into the soft part of its neck, right under its mandibles. Staggering around, it flinched before falling heavily beside Kat; who squirmed and tried to inch away from it. Spitting out a little blood, she marveled at how the creature best resembled a heap of scrap metal surrounding a pile of dark stones in the dim lighting. Had they killed it with that dart? But getting closer was not high on Kat's list of priorities. Footsteps came behind her and she tensed. Whispering voices, a slight argument…then someone hit her on the back of her head, and she blacked out; safe from the pain for a while at least.

Author's note: the maze part is kind of based on a creepy dream I had…*shudder*


	8. Chapter 8

Author's Note: Yikes…the time between updates. Sorry about that. But since midterms are over, I will add a new chapter every week. Tests. Are. Evil..

Someone was trying to pound a railroad spike into the back of her head; Kat was sure of it. She sat up with a growl and was about to give said person the wrath of her fists when extreme dizziness forced her back down. "Dammit…son of a…bitch." Grumbling under her breath, she forced her stomach into not rejecting whatever contents it still had. Finally, it settled. Expelling her breath in a whistling hiss, she opened her eyes. Whatever idiot was in charge had turned the overhead lights on full blast, somehow increasing their potency ten fold. "Oww…" shutting her now sore eyes, she turned her head slowly to the side.

The table she was on was ice cold and made of shining steel. Her shoes were gone and her toes beginning to numb from the chill. Flexing her tingling digits, Kat sighed. An iv was lodged in one arm, and a large bandage was wrapped around the other. Thankfully, no pain at all…one small mercy. Her back, although very sore, seemed to be working. The low humming from the air conditioning units seemed like a swarm of enraged insects off in the distance, making her headache worse…and fouling her already miserable mood. "Hey! For once can you people NOT have the ac blasting my ass off? For once! Not asking for much here!" surprisingly, she had plenty of energy to shout, and planned to make good use of it.

So what if she got into trouble for screaming? Couldn't be any worse than that maze from hell. When no reply came, she upped the volume. It felt good to release anger…hadn't done that in a while. Kat grinned at the ceiling, chuckling. (Must be the pain meds..haha.) she thought, elation creeping in. "Uh…hello? Did you forget about me? I'm still here in case you didn't notice…damn you people are stupid." Seconds later, a door opened and shut. Brisk walking approached. Kat's feeling of elation vanished. A male voice, with a Spanish accent loomed at her left ear. "I would greatly appreciate it if you would keep your mouth shut, my dear. I have other patients who do not enjoy loud, obnoxious voices."

Turning her head, Kat saw the man leaning over. He had straight black hair reaching just past his ear lobes, brown eyes, and a rather handsome face. There was a very slight hint of a beard and mustache, like he had forgotten to shave for several days. A small nametag on his white lab coat read: Sera. He sighed impatiently. "My name is Luis Sera. I treated your injuries. Injuries which could have been avoided if you had simply used common sense. But I don't hold that against you. After all, you are merely a twelve year old. Frankly I'm shocked you survived. A few of my less pleasant co workers placed bets on how long you would last. No one won, fortunately." There was a concerned edge to his voice. Flipping through a folder, Luis jotted down a few notes.

"How are you feeling? The bite wound to your arm was more vicious than I expected. Almost didn't catch it in time. Infection had begun to settle in. You have been out for 2 days by the way." He shut the folder and stared down at Kat. "Ever planning on answering me? I know you are most certainly not mute." Blinking her eyes against the harsh light, Kat spluttered in indignation. " Sorry if I'm not a robot who automatically gives answers the second their shoved at me. One moment, I'm in this freaky maze getting stomped on by this insect asshole. Next thing I know, some moron knocks me out, I wake up in this freezing ass room, getting lectured by someone who makes their living in this hell…so yes, I am short on giving answers." Surprisingly, the man smiled and laughed. "Fully conscious and ready to argue! Perfect! Means the infection has disappeared and you are on the road to recovery. Being bitten by a Plagas infected dog is serious business...even amongst those that can no longer claim the title of human."

Walking over to a cabinet, Luis rummaged for something before turning back around. "Believe me, I would know. Had to deal with quite a few problems while I was back home in Spain last summer." While he spoke, Kat noticed a few darkly colored veins in his hands, along with some in his neck. Much like creeping spiders, they branched out into spindly trees on his skin. Frowning, Kat squinted at them. The horrid virus that so many claimed to have "evolved" the world, certainly didn't make black veins appear on the afflicted. In fact, it made their skin flawless. So what was this? She had never heard of this type of side effect.

Sensing the girl's gaze, Luis glanced at her then back to his folder, nervous and uneasy with himself. "No, I am not like most here at the mansion. Uroboros isn't my disease…Las Plagas has me in its grip and wont let go…a parasite, similar to what is housed in those dogs that bit you. But mine is a so called superior plaga in that I have complete control over my thoughts and actions. But without daily medication, despite having total control, I wouldn't actually FEEL like having control and would probably do whatever the hell I wanted to people…much like those who are now in charge in my country." Luis then shifted into further mumbling and rambling as he pawed through the messy cabinet, spilling a few bottles. While the mess was met with a not so silent "Oh, shit," he made no move to clean it.

Swirling around, he rushed back over to check on the dressing on Kat's arm. Fiddling with the iv, he injected something into the bag. "This will help with the dizziness. The wound is almost completely healed. There is an escort to take you back to your room." Luis then hurried out, leaving Kat alone once more. Room? Really? More like a prison cell…well, actually it WAS a cell…minus the iron bars. An odd tingling began in her fingers and toes. Then her headache vanished. Bit by bit, Kat inched her way off the table. "And where are my shoes?" She asked the empty room. "No shoes then? Perfect…really wonderful." Ending the sentence with a snarl, she prowled around peaking into every corner; only to find the missing footwear was practically right in front of her. "Don't you dare laugh." The room remained silent as always.

But Kat knew cameras lurked everywhere. So someone was probably watching the whole scene play out, and chuckling at her foolishness. She hated being laughed at. Hated it even more that a person could do so, and she was powerless against letting them know just how much she detested them. At least now her feet weren't in danger of coming off from the cold anymore. The steel cabinets that lined the white featureless walls, were blank. Rolling her eyes, Kat stared at the dull ceiling. "Ever heard of interior decorating? Of other colors besides white, gray and…well, more white?" Almost right away, a voice came from some intercom. A flat "No" followed by poorly hidden laughter crackled out of the corner. Sounded like some teenage girl mocking a kid…and Kat was that kid.

Sticking out her tongue, Kat turned away. More laughter from the intercom. "Ok, try this on for size." She grumbled, raising both arms and flipping off the cameras. The person, whoever it was, halted their mocking. Grinning widely, Kat strode for the door and flung it open, nearly hitting the guard that was standing close. The man heaved a deep sigh; the sound of someone who had been on their shift for way too long. Irritably motioning for Kat to follow, he led her along the echoing hallway, not bothering to train his rifle on her. Why threaten violence if escape was one hundred percent impossible? No point. Passing other hallways branching off, she caught a glimpse of several robed figures, and a small man wearing a rather ridiculous napoleon type outfit. "What the hell?" Kat thought aloud, shaking her head.

The napoleon man turned and gave a glower worthy of a winter storm. The other person also looked her way; face half hidden by a purple hood edged with an intricate design, lip curling in disgust. The guard who was leading Kat, whispered sharply. "Don't anger them, human. It's not worth it. Wesker may own this mansion, and technically be in charge, but that doesn't mean he has any qualms about letting others decide your fate…which for now, if you keep your mouth shut, looks safe for the moment." Kat did as she was told. The guard swiped an entry card and another set of doors hissed open. They passed several closed rooms before coming to one with a wide window. A cot, larger than the one back in her cell, sat in the corner.

"Your new quarters, human. Bathrooms and showers are behind you." The guard pointed down the hall. "There is a kitchen to your left, before you reach the double doors. Since you faired so well in the maze, Wesker wishes for you to be more comfortable. You will be allowed outside on a daily basis for 2 hours. There is no lock on this door." His tone was tired and stressed, and Kat could tell he would rather punch a hornet's nest than deal with humans. "You may come and go as you please from your room. The library is upstairs; open all hours. But don't try anything funny. There is 24/7 monitoring of this whole complex. In a heartbeat, Wesker can have hundreds of soldiers armed and ready. If you try to escape, you will be shot on sight." Without another word, the harried man turned and marched along the hallway, back the way he and Kat had come.

She remained, rooted to the spot and trying not to laugh from the absurdity of her situation. Now what? After they try to kill her in some maze game, they suddenly bestow her with a bigger room, access to a library, kitchen, and permission to be outside? Ha….and they thought humans were mentally unstable. Well…Kat turned to look towards the kitchen. Wondering if they had decent food to cook, she wandered off in that direction, shrugging away weird thoughts and an uneasy feeling. This was too easy…but it was happening all the same. Might as well enjoy it while it lasted. Good graces probably didn't last…especially ones from Wesker.

Bursts of laughter came from somewhere far off down the hallway behind Kat. People were coming. She turned to frown at their laughter before remembering the guard's words. Hmmmm…should she smile at whoever was coming? Or could that be interpreted as somehow rude and obnoxious? (Sheesh…you cant win with these freaks) she thought as they came into view. It was that napoleon man. Crap. Not good. The purple robed fellow who had sneered at Kat, followed behind him. And two individuals who would tower over anyone at the mansion, Wesker included, treaded lightly along either side, quiet as a feline on the hunt. Their burning eyes and long, clawed fingers made Kat's heart crumple.

(Just keep walking and ignore them, Kat…you can do something right for a change cant you?) her furious thoughts pounded as she increased her speed. Pretending unfriendly, unpleasant monsters were not actually strolling behind, pushed her limits. Thankfully, they did not follow her into the kitchen. But she still felt their gazes even when the swinging door stopped moving. Luckily, the kitchen was large and she made excellent use of the space; quickly disappearing from view around a corner. Whispering, more laughter, and receding footsteps met her ears. Sighing in relief, Kat set about the kitchen, which was probably 3 times the size of her old house. Spacious pantries, a massive walk in fridge and freezer, 8 ovens and 9 sets of burners; but no people milled about.

"Holy crap…well, lets see what you got." Kat wondered aloud. The first pantry had a bag of flour almost as tall as she was; and it nearly equaled her weight. (hmmm…waffles sound good. Wonder if they have chocolate chips?) her stomach was definitely doing most of the thinking. She hadn't eaten in 2 days. Grabbing the flour bag's top, she heaved and pulled; only to succeed in yanking it over on top of her. It was partially torn, and a steady stream of flour came out all over her chest and face. Wrestling her way out from under it, she snuffed and sneezed, puffs of flour billowing around her. Coughing, she laughed. She hadn't cooked in a while and it felt good to be back in a kitchen; a real kitchen…not a makeshift one out in the woods somewhere.

Skipping across the floor she grabbed a large bowl and went about putting a whisk, measuring cups, a container of milk, and eggs into it. Setting the ingredients down on the countertop, she pulled out a large waffle iron. Perfect for Belgian waffles. It was strange though, to be riffling through the mansion kitchen unguarded. She knew she was almost never off camera, but to have Wesker decide to let her have partial free reign and leave her room whenever she pleased, boggled her. She was just a kid for God's sake! They trusted a 12 year old to be calm and not attempt escape? "Better not question it Kat," she whispered. "You might jinx it." the batter sizzled as it went into the heated waffle iron. While the lovely smells wafted from it, she set about locating the coffee.

It was freshly ground to varying degrees of coarseness, and stuffed in multiple containers. Now the coffee maker itself was in hiding. Kat managed to find it but it was dwarfed by an espresso machine; one that could have rivaled any found in coffee shops. Her mouth dropped. One surprise after another. "Bring it on!" she said to the kitchen and whoever might be watching. Well, if she didn't set it on fire or have it literally blow up in her face she knew she was doing something right. It switched on without fuss or personal injury. Smirking in triumph, Kat went to the waffle iron and extracted the fluffy, golden prize, plopping it on a plate. Make another? Why not. She pretty much had all the excuses in the world to eat junk food. When she had the breakfast mission accomplished, she happily settled down to waffles and a mocha; content with this very small, but nonetheless positive victory. And for the space of an hr, she forgot the pain, fear and sadness that always stalked.

Author's Note: I know this chapter wasn't very exciting, but I think Kat needed a rest. And junk food! Cant go wrong there.


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